


Fire Our Minds

by SublimeDiscordance



Series: Four Hearts Are Better Than One [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, At least my attempt at writing subspace, Bottom!Yancy, Comeplay, D/s themes, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, Everybody Fucks Yancy, Everybody Lives, Felching, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Indirectly, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Snowballing, Subspace, sort of, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Pave The Way for Endless Nights</p><p>Herc is waiting for the boys when they get out of the shower. He has a promise to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Our Minds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/gifts).



> SIX MONTHS LATER. HELLO LOVELIES. 
> 
> I finally finished this. It's literally naught but porn, as promised. And contains the foursome. So. Yes. Here. Enjoy!
> 
> This is dedicated to the lovely suyari for always sticking by me and keeping me going even when I didn't think I could. You're the best, love.
> 
> Title from the same song as the first part, "On The Beach" by OceanLab.
> 
> Unbeta'd. I apologize for that but I did give it a few readthroughs. And I've still managed to find three typos. Damnit. Been looking at this too long. :/ again, sorry. If you see anything super bad, feel free to point it out.

Raleigh, Yancy, and Chuck all manage to finish cleaning themselves up and dry off in five minutes, and, fewer than sixty seconds after that, exit the bathroom of their suite and enter the master bedroom the four of them are sharing. Yancy would like to say that he pays attention to the opulent décor of the room, to the rich colors and flashy furnishings and cherry-wood furniture. But he can’t say that—not without feeling like a liar, at any rate—because he’s completely transfixed by the sight that awaits them in the center of the king size bed. There are many words that describe Herc Hansen—stubborn, strong, rugged, and, if one wasn’t afraid of having one’s spleen forcibly removed, _beautiful_ —but none of them do the man justice in this moment; at least, not in Yancy’s mind.

Herc is kneeling on the bed, naked, his shins bent back beneath his thighs so that he’s essentially holding himself on his heels and toes. His chest is glistening with the drying evidence of his workout, his steel-blue eyes flashing when he catches sight of all of them, one hand lazily stroking over his half-hard cock while the other rests against one muscled leg. Even only at half mast, he’s considerably impressive in size, and Yancy knows from personal experience that their dad—and Herc has been more of a father to him and Raleigh than their biological sperm donor ever had been—tends to thicken more than anything else the harder he gets. And _fuck_ if his mouth doesn’t go completely dry at the sight of their father putting himself on display for them.

Herc’s eyes land on Yancy, and something sparks within their depths. Something primal that has him fighting off the urge to roll over and present his belly where he stands.

“I promised you [earlier](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1339564/chapters/2792560),” Herc tells him, hint of a growl in his voice, “that I’d make sure you couldn’t walk straight in the morning.”

There’s a beat of silence during which the words sink in, and Yancy hears Raleigh and Chuck both let out sharp exhales through the buzzing that’s taken up residence in his mind. Because Herc is giving him _that_ look. The one that Yancy knows means he is _definitely_ going to keep his promise, and likely then some.

“ _Fuck_ , daddy…” he breathes, the breathy sounds, drawn from within him before his mouth can consult his brain, pulling the barest hint of a smile onto Herc’s face. The dry strokes over that gorgeous cock, which is slowly filling further and further with blood as Yancy watches, pick up almost imperceptibly in pace.

“Well, that _was_ the idea,” Yancy’s heart drops as his father’s words make their way from between Herc’s lips, “ _but_ , seeing as you lot saw fit to start without me… well,” the older man gestures with his free hand at the three of them, “up here. All of ya.”

Though he’s not sure which of them manage to comply fastest, Yancy just knows that he ends up sandwiched between Raleigh and Chuck when they all manage to arrange themselves in front of Herc. The older man leans down, capturing Raleigh’s lips in a heated kiss as Yancy and Chuck watch. When Raleigh moves to slot their mouths closer together, whining deep in his throat, Yancy catches a glimpse of tongues writhing against one another; his skin suddenly feels too tight, and, despite the fact that he’s come twice tonight already, he can feel his dick rapidly filling in interest. The older man pulls back from the younger Becket and, skipping over Yancy, pulls his son forward to plunder his mouth as well. Yancy lets out a whine of his own as Chuck _groans_ into the kiss, body going slack in his father’s arms. When Raleigh wraps his arms around Yancy from behind, running soothing hands over the freckled expanse of Yancy’s chest, Herc pulls away from kissing his son.

“Get your younger brother hard,” he says as Chuck’s breath comes in unsteady gasps beside him, their father’s gaze heavy on Yancy. “Use only your mouth. No hands.”

Yancy moves to comply, a thrill running through his body as he falls to his hands and knees, Raleigh’s semi-erect cock pointing at his face, halfway there already. As he takes his brother into his mouth, laving the entire length with his tongue as he slides slowly down to the root, he hears the kid let out a quiet curse. When Raleigh’s cock hits the back of his throat, Yancy swallows reflexively and tries to breathe through his nose. The dick in his mouth gets even harder at the stimulation, and his brother lets out a delighted half-moan, half-whimper. A warm thrill shoots up Yancy’s spine, and he moves back until just the first two inches or so are still in his mouth, running his tongue under the flared corona of his brother’s cockhead before scraping over the tender flesh with just the barest hint of his teeth. Raleigh makes the same noise as before, though there’s a decidedly _pleased_ tone underlying the sound, now.

“Yeah, Yance,” the words aren’t nearly wrecked enough for Yancy’s taste, “fuck, yeah, just like that.”

When Yancy looks up, past the hair that’s just starting to grow into bangs—fuck, he needs a haircut—he catches a glimpse of his brother staring down at him, pupils blown, mouth hanging slightly open, cheeks flushed. He smirks as best he can around the cock in his mouth and, not breaking eye contact, sinks down on Raleigh’s cock, the pure _rapture_ on the kid’s face all the motivation he needs to ruthlessly fight back his gag reflex. Fingers tangle in his hair, and the next thing he knows, he hears a gruff voice command, “that’s right, baby, all the way,” before the hand on his scalp starts _pushing_. Raleigh’s cock goes from slowly easing down his throat to being shoved the rest of the way in one, clean motion, and Yancy’s muscles spasm at the unplanned motion as he gags, body trying desperately to suck in a breath through his nose. He fights back the urge to panic, can still feel the instinctual response at the back of his mind like chilled fingers ghosting down his spine as his hands come up to grip Raleigh’s hips. Tears spring up in his eyes when Herc manages to push him all the way to the root of his brother’s cock, and he has to blink them away to keep his eyes locked on the other blond’s face.

With a low murmur, Herc takes Raleigh’s hands and fists them against Yancy’s scalp. He can hear their dad instructing his younger brother to take over. Yancy watches as something lights up in the kid’s eyes at the words, at the control he’s being given: something that makes a fire erupt in his belly. Even with his body instinctively trying to pull off of his brother’s cock to suck in a breath, absolutely delicious shudders race through him when his brother’s fingers bear down, holding him firmly in place. Hips cant back, Raleigh’s dick slipping back into view, and, as soon as the head clears his throat, Yancy sucks in a breath, chest tightening in a cough. His vision clears as he blinks moisture from his eyes, but then Raleigh’s sliding back in, slow, relentless, and _not fucking enough_.

What Yancy _intends_ to do is use his tongue and throat to stimulate his brother to the point where he loses it and fucks his throat the way Yancy had earlier that evening. Instead, there’s a sudden, unexpected pressure at his hole as a single digit works its way past both rings of muscle and aims right for his prostate. Yancy groans around Raleigh’s cock, his brother echoing the noise. His own dick springs to immediate attention, though whether it’s at the feeling inside of him or the sight and sound of his brother’s obvious pleasure, Yancy doesn’t know.

“What’s this, then, eh?” comes the sound of Herc’s voice from behind him, and Yancy wonders for perhaps half a second where Chuck is before he’s right there, too, slotting himself into Raleigh’s side, capturing his younger brother’s lips with his own. The finger inside of Yancy swirls around, and he would whimper because Herc has moved off of his prostate—deliberately, he’s sure—except his mouth is otherwise occupied. Before Yancy can even think about answering Herc’s question, Raleigh’s grip has tightened further and he starts pistoning his hips back and forth, spurned on by the soft encouragement Yancy can hear Chuck whispering into his little brother’s mouth. His arms tense where they’re bracing him against his brother—at least, they’re bracing him until he hears Herc make a low sound of displeasure.

“Thought I told you no hands,” their dad growls, and then a vise-like grip wraps around one of Yancy’s wrists, hauling it back at a sharp angle. A moment later, the finger inside of him disappears—he would groan in disappointment except, yeah, _dick down his throat_ —and the other wrist is hauled backwards. Both his hands end up wrapped in the same grip, backs of his palms pressed together and pushed up towards the middle of his spine until it’s _almost_ painful—two years of experience have taught them all _exactly_ how far they can go, how far each of them _want_ to go—before two of Herc’s digits are pushing inside of him, the burn of the stretch teetering on this side of the line between pain and pleasure.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” the gruff words are a soft rhythm against his ear, the heat from Herc’s body soaking into Yancy’s skin across the scant inches between them as his dad’s fingers scissor and widen within him, the feeling of something inside of him shifting subtley.

 “What’s all this in here, then, eh?” There’s almost a hunt of accusation in the words, and it makes Yancy’s gut twist. “Someone else been in here already? You been having some fun without me?”

Yancy half-chokes on the cock in his mouth as those fingers come back together and grind down on his prostate without warning. He tilts his head to the side, trying not to gag as the action briefly scrapes Raleigh’s cock along the over-sensitive back of his throat. His back teeth catch against the flared rim on its way from between his jaws, and he gives several plaintive licks as the shaft slowly emerges into view once more, eyes as full of apology as he can make them.

“N—” He has to haul in a breath. “No sir. It’s mine. Chuck put it there for me, sir.”

A growl vibrates against his neck where his dad has moved to suck a mark into his skin, the sound both approving and possessive. A scrape of teeth against the newly forming bruise makes shocks of pain-pleasure radiate outward.

“Did he now? Your brother get you all wet and sloppy for your daddy?”

The fingers inside of him crook and jab at his prostate on the last word, and Yancy can barely breathe against the tide of _heat_ that rushes through his entire body. However, before he can even think about answering, a third finger works its way into him, and Yancy can’t hold back the pained gasp that he sucks in through his gaping mouth. His head throws itself back from where his brother’s cock had been resting against his cheek, back arching as his body instinctively withdraws from the spike of discomfort.

“Looks like he didn’t do quite a good enough job, then,” a hand on his back, brushing the pain away, fingertips tracing the outline of his spine. “We’ll just have to remedy that, won’t we? Rals?”

Yancy can’t see what their dad does, but his brother’s fingers twist against his scalp—the burn a much more welcome pain—and Yancy’s lips wrap around Raleigh’s cock again, the blunt tip pushing at the back of his throat a second later. He hums happily deep in his chest, eyes slipping shut, and focuses on not gagging as his brother’s hips shift forward, his air vanishing momentarily. Tongue traces the familiar veins as they slide past his teeth, the hot weight, the _taste_ of Raleigh making his vision cloud, his cock twitch to impossible hardness.

“Chuck. C’m’ere.”

Rapture enfolds Yancy’s mind so profoundly that he nearly misses the words, doesn’t actually become truly aware of them until he feels all-too familiar hands pushing at his asscheeks. He _does_ gag momentarily when a tongue swipes over his hole before diving in, though his brother is relentless, not slowing his pace at all even as Yancy’s lungs claw desperately at the few breaths of air he’s being given. Some part of his mind screams that it’s too much, that he can’t take much more of this. The larger part of his mind whispers that he’s almost there.

There’s a pained moan from behind him before the tongue vanishes, and Yancy hears their dad whisper, “Did I tell you to lick him open, son?”

Raleigh’s balls come to rest on his chin again, the short, dark-blond, wiry hairs at the base tickling Yancy’s nose, when Chuck answers, “N-no, Dad.”

He barely catches the plastic, snapping sound over his brother’s moans, the soft curses, the _yeah, fuck Yance, look so good with your lips stretched around my dick, bro_ ’s.

What he _does_ hear is his father, words accompanied by a wet, slick slide of skin on skin and Chuck’s pleasured whimpers.

“See if you can’t make it a week, eh, boyo?”

There is no other warning.

Chuck—after two years together, Yancy could _never_ confuse his lovers’ dicks—enters him with a thrust that borders on _too much too fast_. He tries to push back, tries to cry out, tries to take more, tries to push Chuck _out_ , tries to say it’s too much, it _hurts_ , it—

Raleigh makes a sound in the back of his throat, the words, “Fuck, bro, do you even _know_ how good you look split on Chuck’s cock? _Fuck_ ,” making their way into the air, before he shoves Yancy’s head down until his lips are against Raleigh’s pubic bone. He feels his brother’s cock slip down his throat, gags, body resisting, just like it had with Chuck, _screaming_ at him that he can’t do it, that it’s _toomuchtoomuch can’t do it toomuchcan’t_ —

Raleigh and Chuck both bear down as one, pushing themselves impossibly deeper ( _toofuckingdeeptoomuch—_ ), and Yancy’s entire body ( _youcan’tyoucan’tyoucan’t_ — _)_ jerks in reflex, fighting desperately against the grip Herc still has on his wrists, the voice reaching a crescendo as his throat and ass both convulse in tamdem and—

And, abruptly, the voice…gives up. Goes silent. Disappears. He’s left floating, drifting, in a sea of lust, pleasure, and light. He can feel his entire body going slack, can feel the tendrils of heat that crawl up his spine and curl around themselves at the base of his skull; can feel every shred of doubt, of hesitance, of the _need to be in control_ , vanish as if they’d never been there in the first place. His thoughts flow more freely, whatever filter might’ve existed before shattering wide, and he finds himself making some sort of guttural noise even though his brother’s cock is cutting off his air.

It’s only when he hears his dad’s voice, deep and throaty and so _pleased_ that it makes his cock throb where it’s hanging between his spread legs, that Yancy even manages to get a sort of concrete grasp on reality again. A thumb—he’s fairly certain it’s Herc’s—circles him, slick, pad rubbing against the slit and smearing hot-cold wetness across the flared head.

“Fuck, boys, I think you broke your brother.”

Yancy’s eyes open themselves—when had he closed them?—and he gazes up at his brother’s face, aware on some level of the awe and love he finds there. Raleigh is saying something as he strokes Yancy’s cheek, so softly, so sweetly, the muddled words— _feels good, doesn’t it Yance?_ —sparking something in his mind. The realization rolls over him that this is how Raleigh feels every time he lets go for them, and Yancy finds some corner of his mind wondering how he’d never allowed himself to go this far before.

“Good job, boys.”

The grip on his wrists is gone, and there are hands on Yancy’s hips, turning him over, the cocks within him rearranging his guts and grinding against all the right places.

“Now finish off so we can get started.”

He doesn’t even gag, doesn’t start at all, as Chuck and Raleigh both pound into him, using him in every sense of the word, to chase their own pleasure. He can feel them moving within him, feels his jaw stretching wide to accommodate Raleigh’s girth, feels Chuck’s cock throbbing within his guts and getting thicker as the kid comes to the edge of his release; feels hands running over his body, hot and feverish. The only interruption is when strong, calloused fingers—always more deft that Yancy would’ve ever guessed—grip his hair and gently manipulate his head until he’s facing the other direction, his father’s cock filling his vision for a split second before he lunges forward and wraps his lips around the glistening head.

“That’s right, baby,” the words, low and rumbling like distant thunder, are accompanied by a slight pull against the roots of his hair, “get me wet. That’s my beautiful boy.”

Yancy’s body practically vibrates as the words sluggishly register in his mind, whimpers working their way past the smile he can feel threatening to stretch across his features as the hands on him push him further down his father’s impossibly long shaft. He laves his tongue over the familiar veins, tracing them as best as he can with Chuck’s cock beating a senseless rhythm against his prostate. It’s only when there are dark red curls of hair brushing against his nose that Yancy realizes he’s not quite…breathing. That Herc’s—his _daddy’s_ —cock had at some point slipped down his throat without him even realizing.

As soon as the thought even manages to cross his mind, the grip in his hair is tightening further, and he’s left gasping and _empty_ as Herc pulls back, a line of spit connecting the tip of his cock to Yancy’s lips. As Yancy watches, the hand that’d been in his hair untangles itself before brushing, palm open, against his lips, gathering up the spit that’d been there before it traces the line back and sets up a slow, slick rhythm of strokes.

“Remember, love,” Herc’s voice rolls over him like a warm breeze, and Yancy finds his eyes darting up to the man’s face, enraptured by the practically _glowing_ eyes he finds there, “don’t swallow unless I tell you to.”

“Hnnh—?” is all Yancy has time to mumble, confusion like a soft-glowing light in his mind, before hands grip the sides of his head, tipping it back as another cock seats itself in his throat. His mind belatedly informs him that the hands are Raleigh’s, somehow manages to pick out that little scar on the kid’s left palm from when they were teenagers, but the information is unnecessary. After all, Yancy can practically tell them apart by taste alone now. His sound of confusion morphs into one of happiness—a wistful sigh, perhaps—and he sucks down hard, trying to turn his head to the side and get a better angle. Raleigh, however, is relentless, and Yancy finds himself being controlled by his younger brother as the kid fucks into his throat, unintelligible words falling from between those lips that Yancy wants so very badly to kiss right now.

The two of them continue to manhandle him, Chuck’s thrusts becoming even more erratic and forceful while Raleigh’s cock is practically weeping pre-come that Yancy is quick to lap up every time he gets a chance to breathe. Yancy simply allows himself to float, knows that they’ll take care of him, knows that the reason for their moans, their gasps, their pleasure, is _him_ , and he finds himself exulting in that fact as it drifts through his thoughts, fingers clawing at the sheets that are now behind him.

But then there are teeth on his exposed neck, stubble prickling his skin as a low growl vibrates against his flesh, the pain that blossoms from the point of contact the most delicious variety. He knows it will leave a mark, knows it’s _his daddy’s_ mark, knows that it’s going to stay on his skin for _days_ where anyone can see it, proudly proclaiming to the world that he is _loved_ and that he is _theirs_ and that he _belongs_ to them just as they belong to him, heart, body, and soul—

Yancy’s orgasm surprises him, makes him arch off the bed as his release arcs through the air to land on his lower belly. Someone is making a pleased humming sound.

“Oh fuckin’ _shit_ —” Warmth spreads through Yancy’s lower half as he distantly, through the white haze that’s surrounding his thoughts, becomes aware of the sensation of Chuck filling him, cock pulsing in time with both of their too-quick heartbeats against Yancy’s over-sensitive prostate. It’s only then that he realizes that the pleased humming is coming from him, that his body is writhing against the bed as shivers so hot they feel frozen race through him, that the fingers in his hair, against his scalp, are tightening as—

“Oh shit, oh fuck Yance, I’m gonna—”

Not swallowing Raleigh’s come, his little brother’s balls tightening above his nose, is almost impossible. Though his brother has already come once today, there’s a _lot_ of it, and the urge to just let it flow down his throat, to just relax and let himself take it all in, is so strong that Yancy actually gags as his mind and body war. He’s still floating, still loose and _aching_ with need despite coming for a _third_ time today, and his eyes seek out his daddy’s, landing on those steely blues that are looking at him so _fondly_ that Yancy feels the sudden need to _say_ something— _I love you_ , _I need you_ , please— _anything_.

If the fire he sees behind those eyes is anything to go by, Herc already knows. His daddy _always_ knows what he needs.

“Chuck, get your brother’s come. Don’t swallow it.”

Chuck groans happily from where he’s holding himself propped up, eyes flickering open, and he pulls away, his cock slipping wetly from Yancy’s ass—Yancy thinks that maybe a noise falls from between his lips at the loss, but he’s not sure—as he leans down towards the mess coating Yancy’s stomach.

“Your other brother.” There’s laughter barely concealed in the words, and Yancy _knows_ he makes a noise when Raleigh’s softening cock slips from between his lips. But then Chuck’s mouth is on his, tongue not even bothering with asking for entrance, simply sliding inside, writhing and tasting and _taking_. He feels the gentle suction against his lips, feels Chuck’s tongue gathering up his baby brother’s come and holding on to it like something precious, feels the groan that spreads between them—he can’t tell which of them is making it—as the taste coats their taste buds. One of Yancy’s arms try to get a grip on Chuck, try to hold on, but he’s so boneless, so wrecked, that all he can do is lie there and let his youngest brother have his way with him.

“Rals, help him out. Get your older brother’s come off his stomach.”

Yancy hears the words, doesn’t quite manage to get them to process by the time he hears his brother’s low sound of desire—a cross between a hum and a groan—and a tongue is tracing hot, wet lines in the valleys between his abs, gathering up the mess he’d left there. However, when the tongue vanishes only to be replaced by a mouth—slick and wet in a way that can only be accomplished by a mouthful of spunk—that sucks _hard_ at his softening, oversensitive shaft and head, Yancy makes a low whining noise in the back of his throat, arms twitching feebly in protest at the overstimulation.

Raleigh pulls away after a few moments of suckling, and the lightning racing up and down Yancy’s spine slowly fades away, but it leaves imprints in his skin like the circuitry scars that trace over his right side. Words float over his head, murmurs of sound that he knows carry meaning but that refuse to connect within his mind, all of them in the dark, low tone of their dad. As his eyes move over the three men above him, surrounding him, he watches as Raleigh and Chuck’s mouths seal against one another. Watches as Chuck tilts his head back slightly and Raleigh moves up onto his knees, Yancy’s release flowing between them until Chuck’s mouth is practically overflowing.

Herc moves back towards him, fingers threading through his hair and pulling Yancy down onto his cock.

“Get your brother ready for me, Chuck,” is all the older man says, though Yancy’s not entirely sure he doesn’t imagine it, the words warped and flowing at the ends. He hums happily around Herc’s dick, laving over the hot flesh with his tongue once more.

He’s sure that, had he been in a less relaxed state of mind, he would’ve gagged on the cock in his throat as Chuck pulls his hips towards the ceiling and seals his mouth over his loosened hole, tongue pushing into him gently but insistently. As he is, though, he simply allows himself to be manhandled, mouth not ceasing in its ministrations even when he feels the slick, wet feelings of _fullness_ that tells him Chuck is pushing the loads he’d gathered up inside of him. The process is as excruciating as it is enjoyable, pleasure singing in Yancy’s mind even as a whine slips from his throat, his body demanding _more_ and _now_.

He quiets for perhaps a few moments when Raleigh’s hands and mouth descend onto his body, working the spots Yancy knows the kid’d mapped out almost systematically back around the time they’d taken down their first Kaiju. Time skips and slows around him in spurts, the memory of that first time he’d been reduced to a gasping, quivering mess under Raleigh’s touch alone feeling almost as if it’d been yesterday instead of, as his mind helpfully provides, close to ten years ago. However, no matter how knowing the wet slide of his brother’s tongue may be, or how many sparks dance over his skin when Raleigh runs his nails over the places that make him practically shudder with _need_ , Yancy still needs, still _wants_ , _more_. His arms lift in jerking motions, one gripping Raleigh’s hair and the other clawing desperately at Chuck, begging even though he can’t make the requisite noises past the cock in his throat.

It feels like an eternity later when Chuck lets him down slowly, a string of pearly, translucent white still connecting them—a string that Raleigh intercepts and follows to Chuck’s mouth. However, freckle-stained fingers tangle themselves in Raleigh’s hair and pull him back for a moment, allowing Chuck to speak.

“ ‘S all yours, Dad.”

There’s a pleased rumble from above Yancy, and he feels suddenly empty as Herc pulls himself from where he’d been trying to make his daddy feel good. His sound of protest is quickly replaced by one of surprise as strong arms wrap around him, under his armpits, and haul him up and back. He doesn’t even manage to struggle, though, mind choosing that moment of fixate on the feeling of their collective releases inside of him, how absolutely _right_ it feels. He’s only snapped back to the present, back outside the warm haze of pleasure suffusing him, by the feeling of that same grip moving until there’s a searing bluntness pushing at his gaping hole. He whimpers softly as he feels some of the his brothers’ come escape him, feels his lips form a soft, plaintive, “No, _no_ , can’t lose it, _please,_ don’t want to lose—”

“S’alright, baby,” Herc’s voice is at his ear, making him shiver, “daddy’s got you. Daddy’s gonna take care of his boy.”

His entire mind whites out for a moment when Herc actually enters him. He’s fairly certain he screams _something_ encouraging, because when he can see again his throat feels rawer than it already did, a slow stream of babble—some of it maybe words, some of it gibberish, he’s not quite sure and he can’t bring himself to care—leaving his lips, his daddy’s cock filling him, stretching him, keeping him full the way he wants. The back of his skull is resting on a broad, muscled shoulder, as his neck cranes at an angle that would, on any other day, be almost painful. There’s a stubbled set of lips running burning kisses over his jaw and neck.

Words paint his skin, bright and luminescent and so full of love it makes Yancy’s chest feel like it’s swelling, makes his _everything_ feel like it’s glowing and _right_ and _whole_ , even the scars that trace over his body or the memories that always lurk at the back of mind. Memories of cold and dark and glaring lights and confusion and—but it doesn’t matter, not now; now, he lets Herc take over. Now, the only thing that matters is the way he can _feel_ his daddy’s cock pulsing inside of him, each heartbeat thrumming through his entire body until it reverberates through his chest, pulling his own heart into the same rhythm. He can _feel_ his brothers’ come inside of him, pushed deeper by their daddy’s cock, can feel the thickness of it stretching him in the ways he loves so much.

He lifts his head a fraction of an inch, can see Raleigh and Chuck, curled together, bodies seeming to almost merge together, sharp, tanned ridges of lean muscle melting into freckled, red-dusted skin under which hide bulkier but no-less-impressive muscles. Their mouths are sealed against one another again, and, if he looks closely enough, Yancy can almost see the way their souls are fused together, the way one exhales just as the other inhales, giving and taking of themselves and each other in perfect synchronicity.

Then Herc actually _moves_ , cock pulsing within him for a moment before beginning its slow, wet slide out, and Yancy’s world tilts sideways. His neck goes lax again, and his head falls back, eyes roving over the ceiling as the constellations of his pleasure flare to life on the off-white surface. More burning kisses, hot and cold at the same time, pepper Yancy’s jaw, and he can almost taste the words that are being left on his skin, the _so beautiful_ ’s and _fuck you feel so good, baby_ ’s and _doing so well for daddy, such a good boy_ ’s he knows and loves and cherishes above all else because the words, even if they’re only in his head, are _his_.

The flared cockhead pulls at the rim of his hole, and Yancy clenches down to try and keep it from slipping out, the rest of his body seemingly relaxing to compensate. His arms are splayed at his side, his entire upper body supported on Herc’s chest, his legs being held back by strong arms that keep him open for the thick length that is being pushed back inside of him with a slowness, a deliberation and _purpose_ , that mimics the movement out a moment ago. He thinks he makes a noise of some kind, knows that Herc is saying _something_. But, for the moment, all that matters is the light that’s spreading through his entire body, the feeling of Herc taking care of him, of Herc _loving_ him, spreading over him, through him, like a down comforter.

Some part of him stores the words and love away, cherishes them like precious jewels, holding them in and making sure he never loses them. Meanings and connection fade in and out, seemingly in time with the slow, dizzying thrusts that are grinding against his prostate, perfectly aimed the way his daddy knows he likes. The stretch and burn are gone—something which his haze-drunk mind can’t seem to decide is a good or bad thing—replaced instead with wave after wave of pleasure. Herc’s body at his back is like a brand, an open flame that he happily curls into, stretching his entire body out as best as he can to maximize the contact. He can feel his still-only-semi-erect dick sluggishly trying to rise, body worn out as it is, even as his mind demands _more_.

“You want more, baby?” Herc’s lips are at his ear, teeth biting down on the lobe and nibbling at the shell as breath burns over his skin. “You can have as much as you can take.”

Meaning drops away again as his daddy slams up into him, once, so hard he feels a sting where their skin slaps together, so hard that the night sky unfolds behind Yancy’s eyelids. However, he can feel his daddy speaking, can hear the words, feel their heat as it banks around his skin and over to his brothers.

Meaning returns again just as Chuck and Raleigh both furrow their eyebrows. Herc pulls himself out almost tauntingly slow this time, the thrust back in even more glacial.

“You want us to _what_?”

“Help me fuck your brother.”

Yancy whines out a soft, “ _daddy_ ,” and cranes his neck back, hands searching for something to hold on to and eventually resting on his pelvis and stomach, massaging where he can feel Herc’s dick rearranging him, pushing down insistently, trying to egg the old man on.

“Please.” He’s sure he’s begging but he doesn’t care. Can’t care when his body is _burning_ with need, when tears of frustration are gathering at the corners of his vision. “ _Please_ , daddy.”

All he can see is his Herc’s face, the way it splits into a smile—looking past him—when he begs, the way his lips form shapes— _see? I told you_ —that Yancy doesn’t, can’t, understand. All he can feel is the cock within him, the heat radiating into his body from the hard muscle at his back, the heartbeat that thrums through him and overrides his own.

But then there’s something pushing at him, above where his daddy is filling him, and he looks down just in time to see Chuck there, kneeling behind—or is it beneath?—him, a hand reaching down towards his hole.

“Fuck, Yance, you have no idea how good you look, do you?” Chuck sounds almost reverent, tone hushed as his fingertip traces over Yancy’s stretched rim. “Have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, stretched out on Dad’s dick, our come leakin’ out’a you, so fuckin’ needy.”

Yancy just whines.

And then almost screams when Chuck finally— _finally_ —slips his finger inside.

It’s exactly what he wants. Exactly what he _needs_. And yet it’s not enough. He needs _more_.

“N— _nnnee_ —”

Words abandon him as Chuck _twists_ his finger within him, seeking out and grinding down on Yancy’s prostate. Yancy makes another attempt to speak—“ _Wan_ — _nngh_!”—but he’s cut off again as Chuck roughly shoves two more fingers into him, skipping straight to three.

He’s hard again in an instant, cock blurting out a line of precome. The noise that escapes his mouth is hardly human, a sound of primal desire more than anything else. He _writhes_ , one hand drifting out to his side—grabbing desperately at the sheets—as the other presses harder against his stomach, dimpling the skin and leaving fading red marks. Babble drips from his mouth, coloring the air even as he tries desperately to pull in a proper lungful of oxygen.

But then Raleigh is there, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss and inhaling Yancy’s words, forcing them to both breathe through their noses, their exhales mingling and mixing, and Yancy’s focus narrows down to his brother as it simultaneously broadens.

He is suddenly aware of _everything_.

Aware of how Raleigh and Chuck are both as hard as he is, despite having come as much as—if not more than—him already. Aware of the hot/cold drip of his brother’s come as it leaves him bit by bit, so full that not even his daddy’s cock can hold it inside of him— _Chuck’s words, “our come leakin’ out’a you,” return to him in a flash_. Aware of Raleigh’s tongue, the familiar taste and feel of it, sliding between his lips even as he pants, _begs_ , for them to make it stop, don’t let it out, please daddy I _need it in me_. Aware of the soothing hands that brand his skin: Raleigh’s on his chest, fingers curled slightly so his blunt nails leave thin welts in their wake; Herc’s on his hips and middle, holding him still, holding him down the way he needs; Chuck’s running over the space where their daddy’s cock is inside of Yancy, as if he knows, as if he can _feel_ it too.

The fingers of Chuck’s other hand crook upwards, pads pressing against Yancy’s prostate, before the little bastard starts fingerfucking him in earnest.

Yancy loses track of time again, seconds blurring into ages, all of it whispered words and praises from the three men surrounding, loving, _filling_ him coated in a haze of pleasure that pushes his mind even further into the stream of consciousness. He sees their eyes sparkle at him like diamonds—blue-green diamonds filled with fire—and their lips moving, his own eyes seemingly unable to decide which of them to look at for more than a half-eon.

It’s Raleigh’s eyes he’s looking into when Chuck finally pushes himself inside.

There’s a flash of pain—pain so intense it almost makes everything vanish beneath curtain of red-black—but it’s gone as soon as it arrives, and Yancy is left looking at his brother, panting. Raleigh’s eyes are wide, now, inches from Yancy’s own, and his mouth is forming words again, is shaping the air into sounds that have no meaning for Yancy. So, he uses every last bit of strength left in his neck to lean up and seal their lips together again, to bring those swollen lips back into contact with his own because he can feel sounds forcing themselves from his throat, and he _needs_ to make someone understand. He and Raleigh don’t ghost much anymore, and Yancy’s mind foggily wishes for that connection right now, a way to communicate, to _share_ , with his brother what he’s feeling.

It’s beautiful. He can _feel_ Chuck and Herc sliding over, against one another, Chuck’s cock going in with nothing to ease the way but some spit and the come already coating Yancy’s insides. He can _feel_ the way the contact between them is almost electric, the increased friction, the way it twists him in ways he’d forgotten he loved so much. He can feel the spark between them, father and son, both of them fucking into him now in long, steady thrusts and cursing up a storm, can feel that spark shoot through him and settle somewhere behind his eyelids. It makes everything shimmer and shine and Yancy’s world is thrown into a corkscrew when Raleigh moans into his mouth, their own spark adding to the mix.

They’re not ghosting, but Yancy can tell that Raleigh knows. Understands. He lowers his head back into his daddy’s shoulder, allows himself to sink into the rocking motions of the two men thrusting into him. Just lets himself move with it, rocking his hips as best as he can, trying to pull his daddy and lover deeper. When he feels a cock at his lips, he doesn’t even hesitate, just tilts his head further back and opens his mouth, welcoming the familiar taste of his brother’s dick as it slides over his tongue and down his throat. He can’t breathe, only notices once his oxygen is cut off that his body is trying to speak, trying to spew filth and encouragements and who the fuck even knows what else.

He stays there, not breathing, letting himself be carried away in the pleasure as Herc and Chuck continue their perfectly synchronized rhythm, thrusts becoming harder and harder, until his lungs start to burn. Raleigh, since the kid has always known him better than he knows himself, pulls himself from blocking Yancy’s air just as blackness starts to crawl at the edges of Yancy’s vision.

The headrush when Yancy sucks in a desperate, needy breath, coupled with the way Chuck has just leaned down and is sucking a mark onto his left pectoral, just above his heart, makes everything twist and turn impossibly, makes all the colors explode and his entire body _writhe_ as his brain tries to process. He feels more than hears Chuck grunt against his skin, nonsense syllables spilling over the tender flesh. Feels his little brother’s cock twitch inside of him, feels it pulse and coat his guts for a second time as Chuck hisses something through his teeth, the sounds pained.

However, Yancy hears the words his daddy speaks next, clear as a bell.

“You’re up, Rals.”

Raleigh plunges himself into Yancy’s throat one more time, then pulls back, leaving Yancy gasping even as the miles and miles of his brother’s cock reappears from his mouth, sticky and slick with spit. He tries to trace over the veins his overwrought mind knows are there with his tongue, but is too slow, and he’s left craning his head as best as he can, tongue sticking from between his lips as he reaches, reaches, but can’t seem to make that line of spit connecting his mouth and Raleigh’s dick any shorter. He whines when Raleigh moves even further away and around him, hands making half-aborted grabbing gestures because he wants his brother back where he belongs, inside of him.

“Hush love,” Herc whispers in his ear, the hand that’d been on Yancy’s chest sealing over his mouth, just below his nose so he can still breathe. “Hush and wait. You’ll get him back.”

And, okay, maybe Yancy doesn’t stop. But, maybe, the way Herc is holding him down like this, coupled with the authority in the man’s voice, the simple way his tone implies he _expects_ to be respected, his orders followed. Maybe all of that makes Yancy _writhe_ in the multiple grips on him, makes him groan out a, “ _Please_ , daddy,” that’s muffled by the hand over his mouth.

He feels Herc nod behind him.

Raleigh’s cock thrusts into him for the second time that night, the intrusion hard and almost too fast. Were Yancy less relaxed, he’d have been afraid it’d hurt him, but, the way he is, he simply jerks once before moaning loudly, his tongue snaking out to lick at Herc’s palm without even thinking about it, just needing to do _something_ with his mouth beyond making noises. His cock is so hard it _does_ hurt, and as Raleigh sets up a punishing rhythm, this time a complete opposite to Herc’s thrusts, Yancy can feel his own orgasm building, can feel it so close, just needs one last push over the edge. Raleigh is obviously angling his fucking _just so_ , making sure the fat length of his entire dick ruts against Yancy’s prostate, using his years of knowledge to drive Yancy absolutely wild with need. He somehow manages to get the strength to lift a single arm, to try to take himself in hand, but the hand on his mouth leaves abruptly. A grip of steel settles over Yancy’s wrist, quickly pinning it to his side.

“ _Please_ , daddy,” he’s begging now, doesn’t care. “ _Please_ let me come. I _need_ it, _please_.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Herc’s words are an open flame against the shell of his ear, panted and so, so filthy. “Daddy’s got you. You can hold on for just a little bit longer, can’t you?”

“No,” comes Yancy’s immediate response, because no he fucking _can’t_. His pleasure is reaching its peak, just a hair below the tipping point. “No, _please_ ¸ I can’t I can’t _I can’t do it please._ ”

“Soon, love,” is the only answer he gets. Yancy continues begging, keeps trying to pull his arm free because he _needs_. He _needs_ to come he’s going to fucking _explode_. He’s being held, just on the edge, and his brain is going fuzzier than it already was, he feels like with every thrust of his brother and daddy’s cocks within him that the release already inside of him is being pushed deeper and deeper, is continuing to impossibly fill him more and more and more until he’s about to fucking burst with it all.

Everything drops away except the relentless friction heat pressure _pleasure_ radiating from where the two dicks are inside of him, the feeling travelling up his spine and consuming his mind. Blocking everything else out until he doesn’t know anything else, until all he thinks, breathes, _is_ , is the feeling of these men, his _family_ , in name if not in blood, pounding into him relentlessly, of the pleasure they’re giving him driving him to the brink of insanity.

Yancy has no idea how long he stays like that, trapped at the edge of his release, neither Herc nor Raleigh giving him that one last push, simply taking their pleasure from his body, his hole twitching and spasming over their lengths. He knows that, at some point, Raleigh leans over his body, those lines of lean muscle Yancy has spent more than a few hours at a time worshipping with his hands and tongue laid atop him, sandwiching him between the two of their bodies. Knows that Raleigh starts kissing him, motions sloppy and uncoordinated. Knows that his brother moves away when Chuck regains his breath and wanders back over to them, presenting his dick to them, and that Yancy wraps his lips around his youngest brother without a thought, without hesitation, lips and tongue searching for the traces of their mixed release that still coat Chuck’s flaccid cock and lapping them up greedily. Knows that Chuck is still leaking, and sucks hard to try to get every last vestige out of him. Feels Raleigh’s lips seal against his own when Chuck slips from his mouth, trapping the soft flesh between them, their tongues tangling around Chuck’s length for a moment before the kid pulls himself free with an oversensitive gasp.

Knows the moment Raleigh’s entire body tenses, cock swelling impossibly bigger within Yancy’s guts, that his kid brother is coming inside of him, feels the flood of warmth filling him even as Raleigh continues to fuck him, mixing his new release in with those left behind earlier.

When Raleigh finally pulls out with a gasp, leaving Herc the only one inside of him, Yancy starts begging louder. Herc doesn’t answer with words, simply grabs both of Yancy’s wrists, pins them against his chest, and then lifts Yancy up slightly, taking on his full weight, and starts thrusting into his hole with abandon.

It’s still not enough.

The only reason Yancy can’t whine any louder is because Raleigh has grabbed a fistful of his hair, shivers tracing down Yancy’s spine from the tugging at his roots, and is having Yancy clean him off the same way Chuck had. Capturing everything Raleigh has to offer and keeping it for himself.

“That’s it, bro,” Raleigh’s words are low, filthy with the taboo nature of everything their doing, of every social norm they don’t give a fuck about anymore, as he runs a finger down Yancy’s cheek. “Fuck, you look so good when you’re so fuckin’ needy, guzzling down my come like you can’t get enough.”

Yancy doesn’t orgasm at the words, but his entire body does tense and attempt to arch off of Herc’s.

“Fuck, baby,” his daddy growls in his ear, “been saving this all day just for you. You ready for your daddy to mark you? T’show y‘who you really belong to?”

Yancy doesn’t answer—can’t, and wouldn’t be able to even if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Just moans happily when Herc practically _roars_ beneath him, biting down on his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise, thick cock spasming deep inside of him. Yancy, however, stays frustratingly on just this side of the edge.

“Please, daddy, it _hurts_ , please, please let me—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because a warm, calloused palm is closing about him, jerking him once, twice, motions rough and insistent, and that’s it, Yancy is gone, screaming to the ceiling as everything turns white and grey and impossibly far away.

When he comes back to earth, he’s still floating, still hasn’t landed, and he squirms on his daddy’s chest and stomach, whining, words finding him when Herc moves to pull out of him.

“Need—” he manages to gasp out, clamping down with whatever vestige of strength he has left. “ _Need it_.”

He can’t see Herc’s face, but he can hear the fondness in his voice, can hear the understanding that nearly makes Yancy weep.

“Chuck, go get the plug for your brother.”

Yancy, though, shakes his head.

“No. Not ‘nough.” His head rolls around, seeking out Raleigh and Chuck where they’re both huddled together, watching. “ _Need it_. _In me_.”

He sees the moment Raleigh gets it, Chuck following a fraction of a second later. They don’t wait for instructions, simply move. Chuck leans down to tongue at the mess Yancy’d left on his own stomach while Raleigh moves between his legs. Slowly eases their father’s softening cock from within him, tongue tracing the rim, and then lapping in earnest once it’s free. He feels Herc’s voice rumble beneath him, pleased, but then Chuck is right there, mouth opening over Yancy’s to seal them together.

The taste of his own release sliding over his tongue is familiar, but not what he _wants_. However, he moans happily anyway, accepting it and swallowing it down as Chuck slowly feeds him. At some point, Raleigh had stopped what he’d been doing, and when Chuck moves away, Raleigh’s mouth replaces him. The taste of their combined release, all four of them, is exactly what Yancy had been craving. He practically sucks it out of Raleigh’s mouth in his haste, and knows he’s making some mix of a groan and a whine as he does. He savors it for a moment, the way they all taste distinctly different, and swirls their release on his tongue until it’s all one giant mix. _Them_. _Family_ , as it were.

When Raleigh pulls away, lips sticky and spread in a grin, everything looks a little clearer, the edges a little sharper.

“More,” Yancy commands, and watches in fascination as Raleigh moves to where Chuck is tonguing at him. Nudges him playfully, which makes Chuck flip him off.

They feed him, slowly, in turns, taking their time to lick Yancy clean, continuing until Yancy feels like he’s going to burst, both with love and come, his throat and mouth sticky with it, the taste stuck permanently between his teeth. He hums happily, making soft little cooing noises he hadn’t known he was capable of, and, when Raleigh feeds him the last few drops, it’s almost as if a filter has been lifted from behind his eyes. Colors make sense again. Words don’t shine quite the same way. He feels…grounded.

“All good, love?” Herc asks from beneath him. When Yancy nods, he’s lifted gingerly and placed on the king-size bed, fingers tracing over him softly, lovingly, lips and tongues chasing bruises and marks.

“You were so good, love,” Chuck’s voice comes from somewhere around his navel. “So perfect for us.”

All Yancy can do is hum happily. Let himself be surrounded by love and warmth.

“Gonna be able to walk straight in the morning?” Raleigh asks him, teasing, light.

That gets a laugh out of him—out of all of them—and Yancy turns to his brother, pulling him in to kiss and nipping at the kid’s bottom lip even as Herc and Chuck both continue to run their hands over him. When he pulls back, he manages to find his words again.

“I hope not.”


End file.
